


get a little closer

by pagets



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F, First Time, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Light Dom/sub, Past Child Abuse, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 05:17:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14348730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pagets/pseuds/pagets
Summary: There is no turning back from this. Your life now has two distinct periods: before meeting Franky Doyle and after.





	get a little closer

**Author's Note:**

> hbd to my fellow noodle aficionado. apparently, birthday requests from good friends are one way to get me to finish a half done fridget fic, hope you enjoy this smutty, fluffy piece. just one take on what their first time might have been like.

Franky Doyle runs hot.

It’s been three weeks since you rented the sleek black Porsche and picked up the gorgeous girl from Wentworth. Franky couldn’t believe you remembered, or perhaps you thought, she couldn’t conceive that anyone could care about her wants and desires enough to show her such gesture of affection because no one ever had. The thought broke your heart but honestly, the conversation was burned in your mind.

Every time you tried to fight this, _this moment_ , the molten lava crossing through your veins as her tongue brushed against yours, the sight of her in your office — angry and tired but full of hope, with such a capacity to love blistering under the surface waiting to be unleashed, you knew you couldn’t walk away from this.

Franky approached everything she did with a ferocity and tenacity you’d rarely seen before. There was a fire in her belly. An uninhibited heat that encompassed everything she touched. It drew you in instantly, lighting a fire in you that had been smoldering silently, unprovoked, for far too long.

It’s pulling you towards her now as she eagerly presses kisses along your neck, hands grabbing at your hips for whatever purchase they can find, nervousness and desperate arousal colliding after months of coy looks and unspoken promises. You’re surprised you’ve managed to hold out this long but these past few weeks have been a whirlwind for Franky, sorting out her living situation, her parole and her studies. No matter how reckless you know just wanting to be with her is — no matter that you know you’re already too far gone to stop yourself from falling, you’d never jeopardise this for her.

Her freedom.

The psychology board might still take your license if this got out but Franky won’t be collateral damage; if for no other reason than to avoid the scandal. You’ve seen how these things go, watched from the sidelines before with detachment, disinterest, abstract judgment. The rules exist for a reason, people in all walks of life abuse the powers afforded to them, Joan Ferguson was a recent and stunning example of that, but as a psychologist, you also know not everything is that clear-cut. There are lines you shouldn’t cross, and then there is this, the heat and warmth and love you already feel for this woman that completely erodes whatever lines existed before.

You already know, no matter how this ends, your life will never be the same because of Franky Doyle. In the last few weeks, you’ve gotten to know how well she cooks a roast chicken dinner and how her brow furrows when she’s concentrating. You know the warmth of her embrace and tonight, finally, you’ll know what it’s like to be inside of her. There is no turning back from this. Your life now has two distinct periods: before meeting Franky Doyle and after.

The irony isn’t lost on you but these are the conversations you’ve been having with her. Discussions that needed to occur before anything further could happen between the two of you, about boundaries and equality in any relationship, but this one especially. You have shared more with Franky in these three weeks then you have shared with previous partners in three years, and eagerly. It has come shockingly naturally to you.

As her psychologist you had been privy to Franky’s medical history, her childhood of abuse, her failed foster home placements, arrest record. In an effort to balance that out Franky now knew about your strict catholic upbringing, how your mother had slowly come to terms with your sexuality but now, as the Alzheimer’s slowly took parts of her from you, your father had pleaded for you to go along with her inquiries of a boyfriend, a husband.

You have spent balmy summer recalling the most benign moments of your childhood and adolescence, sharing everything with her that you’d held back in your sessions under the pretense of professionalism when truly, you can’t think of another person you’ve ever wanted to share yourself with more. Every part of you. From the cigarettes still hidden in the floorboards of your childhood bedroom to the semester, you’d differed in your final year of university because you were so depressed you couldn’t function — because someone hurt you.

Raped you.

No one you’d told had ever received that information with less judgment then Franky had, her own trauma ensuring she wouldn’t treat you like the fragile, breakable thing some lovers had, there was no flashing neon sign that read “handle with care”. She just held you even tighter and kissed you harder and she released choked sob, heartbroken at the thought you’d been hurt like that.

But it was important. That she didn’t see you as this perfect, idealistic notion of a person. There was no place for pedestals here. You couldn’t hold all the cards, you had to establish a new dynamic, as equals for this relationship to have any chance of survival. You were equally flawed and equally fierce in your own ways. Had rebuilt yourself from your own traumas.

You’ve learned in the few months you’ve known her that you are both intelligent and insufferable and _in love_. Neither of you have said the words but you feel it reverberating between you with every shared look, every needy touch, every heated kiss. All you can feel right now is your body on fire as Franky walks you backwards toward your bedroom. You reach the threshold and switch your positions, her legs kitting the edge of the bed first as you push her shoulder and break your mouths apart urging her to sit.

She looks up at you dazed, panting softly and you try to regain control of the situation moving to straddle her thighs as she shuffles further back on the bed. Hands caressing her cheeks as you settle down, trying to quell the rabid desire you see in her eyes. This might be hard and fast, you’re not opposed to that, but it won’t be thoughtless.

“Franky,” her hands have found your hips again, her grip bruising. You capture her lips in a tender kiss, trying to slow things down slightly, convey the significance of this moment with the gentle probing of your tongue against her bottom lip.

She says you name as you part and you’re satisfied she understands, you can still count the number of times she’s said your first name on one hard and you’re hoping to pull it out of her at least a few more times tonight. You push her back and her head hits the pillows, her breathing deep and a flash of arousal flickers in her eyes. The fire in your belly spreads lower at the sight.

You lift your top up, over your head leaving your breasts bare for Franky to gaze upon, she watches hungrily, eager, as she sits up quickly. You halt her forward momentum, stop her mouth from encasing your painfully tight nipples, to remove her dark grey shirt and unhook her black bra. The only sound in the room are your shallow breaths, you lips meet again briefly and then you are cradling her head against your chest, her mouth placing hot open mouthed kisses across the tops of your breasts, she nips you collar bone, swipes her tongue along the lines of your neck and finally, _finally_ , takes your breast into her warm mouth.

You gasp, the sound catching in your throat as her teeth graze each nipple. You can already imagine the love bits that with be scattered on your body come morning, it makes you feel giddy and lighter then you can remember being in recent years. Your fingers have tangled in her hair, tugging and scraping in tandem with your groans of appreciation. You pull her away from you, easing her down against the mattress once more. She is a sight to behold, lips swollen, cheeks flushed ever so slightly. Her chest heaves drawing your attention to her full breasts, aching for you touch. You ravish them in return taking a moment to observe the newly revealed ink on her skin, you’ve seen slivers of some here and there but now everything is on view. The flaming dice on her breast, the cherry blossom cascading across her ribcage. You tongue laps at the scar near her right breast, aware that it’s the result of an incident in Wentworth before your tenure.

Everything in you wants to take the time to press your lips to every scar on her body, eradicate the hate and indifference that put them there, but you know that wouldn’t be wise. Maybe she’s too aroused to care now, in the throws of passion, but you remember how she had flinched the first time your hand had incidentally grazed old cigarette burns on her back, the shame that still lingered there. You trail your hands down her stomach but don’t linger on the scar tissue you know the ink attempts to cover.

She lifts her hips off the bed to help you remove her tracksuit and underwear, your remaining clothing is discarded in a blur too. There is a relief, despite the burning demise crossing through you both, at the feeling of your bodies finally pressed together with no barriers, no clothing separating you. You settle between her legs and move down her body, making your intentions clear. Her legs fall open wider to accomodate you. There will be a time for teasing, to see how far you can push her before she begs and pleads for release but right now you think you might need you mouth on her more then she does.

Franky’s hips buck as your hot breath hovers over her, you adjust your hands to hold her as steady as you can and bury your head between her thighs. With your tongue wide and pliable you run it from the base of her opening to the protruding bundle of nerves begging for stimulation. Her cunt is on fire, her heat is thick and sweet and salty and you can’t get enough of it.

She is divine.

“Fuck, Gidge,” a low guttural moan reaches your ears.

You raise your eyes to see her pawing at her own breasts and the sight shoots straight down to your own center. Latching onto her clit you bring your right hand down under your chin, closer to her entrance. You probe it slowly with one finger silently asking for permission and she responds by thrusting her hips forward, a whine escaping her throat.

“Please, Bridget,” her hands are covering her face now and you know she’s teetering on the edge. When you’re knuckle deep with two fingers, twisting them inside of her and sucking hard on her clit you feel her walls flutter before she contracts around you, thighs snapping up against your burning ears. Her back arches and you hear muffled sobs of pleasure, the echo of your name repeated several times as her climax overtakes her.

As Franky recovers from her first orgasm you maintain steady, gentle stimulation. Lightly sucking her labia, thrusting slowly inside of her.

“Can you come again?” Her eyes are closed but she nods.

“Yeah,” her voice is raw from the orgasm you just gave her and if you hadn’t been waiting for a response you might not have heard it. You double your efforts to drive her to the edge once more. Your middle and index fingers curling inside of her, rubbing against her upper wall, every thrust bringing your palm flush against her engorged clit.

Franky’s head is thrown back, her arms are now bent above her head grasping the pillow it rests on. She’s a vision. Your eyes trail up her naked torso, covered in a slight sheen of sweat. You use your free hand to follow the path your eyes are taking, running your finger tips along her ribs, caressing the faded scars fleetingly. You move your body higher and more directly above hers.

Her breath hitches and if her first orgasm was enough to go by you know she's close to another. You feel the flutter of her walls around your fingers once more and you bow your head to take one of her nipples in your mouth. You suckle on it roughly and she gives you a satisfying moan in response. Your nimble fingers continue up her body to her other breast, and you trek open mouthed kissed up along her exposed neck, towards her open mouth.

Already it feels like you’ve done this a thousand times, your bodies sliding together effortlessly once you’d gotten into the rhythm of things, once the nerves and anxieties you both held had subsided but you don’t know your new lover well enough to know if she’s too far gone to be verbal right now. You softly say her name, wanting the intimacy of her attention. Franky’s head lifts and her emerald eyes open so meet yours, hazy and glazed over with pleasure.

“You’re doing so good baby,” you use your hand to drag her mouth to yours before paying attention to her long neck. You moan into the kisses you place there and swear Franky might've let out a whimper as you twist on her nipple just right.

“Fuck, fuck!” She thrashes under you, “I’m gonna come.”

You write down gently on her neck just before you feel her cunt clamp down on your fingers, strong contractions, enveloping you. You slow your thrusts, easing her through her climax and soothe the faint mark on her neck with your tongue.

“Bridget,” her hand comes down to rest on between your shoulder blades, holding you in place for a while longer.

You hadn’t planned on removing yourself from her yet.

You can feel the harsh rise and fall of her chest against yours, the rapid beat of her heart, as you lower yourself more firmly against her, momentarily trapping your arm between your bodies and pressing your own heat against her strong thigh. It’s not the most comfortable position to be in but she sighs, relishing in the weight of you pressed on top of her. Still twitching around you. You raise your free hand to stroke her hair, brushing it away from where it’s gotten stuck to her forehead.

“You’re beautiful.”

All the things she just let you do to her and _this_ sparks a pink flush across her cheeks. Causes her to chuckles and her eyes to wander in embarrassment. “You are.”

You coax her head down, cupping her jaw, encouraging her to meet your eyes. “Day we met, the first time we spoke, I thought you had the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen and I knew I was completely fucked.”

Twenty years and you have never had the same visceral reaction to anyone but her. A unexplainable wanton need to know her, because you want to _know her_ not because you wanted to treat her or fuck her and be rid other. You want to protect her and support her and hold her close.

You want to love her.

You _know_ it's too soon for that but it's happening anyway. You’re falling really fucking hard — couldn’t stop in if you tried. You love her and it's everything, it's everywhere. In the way you touch her, in the way your heart skips when she laughs and the way it aches when you're away from her.

_"So, what, you're in love with me?"_

_"No."_

What a fucking joke.

“Yeah?” You want to will the disbelief from her voice. _She’s breathtaking._ You never want her to doubt you. You want her to know that you are solid — safe.

_Steadfast._

“Yeah.”

You press your lips to hers, swiping at her bottom lip with your tongue and drawing your body up so you’re at eye level with her. She gasps against your lips as you pull out of her and you tongue quickly slips into her mouth, gliding against hers.

Finally, you pull away, for air if nothing else, but immediately you bring your fingers to your mouth. No use sullying the sheets any further when you can taste Franky’s sex again instead. She groans at the sight, bucking her hips forward and running her hands over your ass before grasping at the backs of your thighs. “No fair,” she says.

“I wanna taste you," the gravel of her voice might be enough to make you come. You groan and grind down on her thigh and fuck, you can’t remember the last time you were this wet. The last time you could feel your cunt throbbing like this.

“You can,” you’re grinning softly as you say it. She’s free, you have all the time in the world and you can do anything you’d like to one and other. You’re certainly not finished with her yet. She hums in approval of the notion and suddenly you find ourself squealing as she tries to push you further up her body.

“Up you get then,” she’s got that cheeky grin on her face that you _love_ and you feel the pat of her hand on your bottom urging you forward.

“Franky!” You admonish her.

She can’t be serious.

You chuckle and place your hand on her chest to balance yourself. You look down at her and her eyes are daring, full of desire and more vulnerable then you think she’d like them to be.

“You sure?”

You’ve heard stories about _the_ Franky Doyle. You don’t imagine she allowed Kim Chang to do this. You _know_ how humiliating and degrading she found submitting to Lucy Gambaro for protection to be. You’d taken the lead thus far, tried to slow down her frantic pace, you know how much of her Top Dog persona was a front but still, this feels different.

“ _Please._ ”

You feel your cunt clench as she says it. You’d been so lost in the feeling of her body, as overwhelmed as she was, but suddenly you think maybe this shouldn’t come as a surprise at all. Well, Franky might be surprised. You’re confident, knowing her history, that she’s ever had a partner that she trusts enough to be vulnerable with, let alone submissive.

And in fairness, you’ve never found yourself in a relationship where you exclusively took on one particular role in the bedroom. You wouldn’t call your sexual history vanilla for lack of a better term, but you had found the things you enjoyed and didn’t tend to stray from that path very often. You recognise the rush of desire flooding you now, an echo of past deviations from said path, full of untapped potential.

Quickly, your mind flickers to how she had sought validation only a moment ago, the way her body had relaxed under the weight of you, the way you’d praised her on the brink of her second orgasm. You hadn’t even realised what you were doing. You weren’t really thinking about it, but it had come so naturally.

Your chest heaves, you nod and shuffle forward carefully. _Okay._ Your knees end up on either side of her head, one hand grasping the headboard of your bed and the other threading through her thick, brown hair.

Franky shuffles beneath you, settling back into a comfortable position before guiding your sex to her mouth. You resist the urge to grind down on her face immediately as she tentatively traces her tongue along the slit of your cunt, before lapping more firmly at your entrance. When her tongue finally latches on to your hard, needly bundle of nerves your head falls forward and you cry out, Franky’s own moans providing additional stimulation. Your eye’s flicker open, looking down at her, hips bucking slightly at the sight. Her eyes closed, her nose pressed firmly against your mons pubis, buried in your well kept patch of pubic hair.

The way she sucks and laps at your clit is sending you rapidly to the brink of orgasm, you’ve been aching for release but you don’t want her to finish you off so quickly. You have thought about Franky Doyle eating you out much longer then you care to admit. She offers you a small reprieve as she reluctantly tears her mouth away, catching her breath. Her hands have been gloriously needing your ass, holding you in place but now you feel her fingers edging towards your entrance from behind.

Still breathing raggedly Franky has resorted to lavishing sloppy open mouthed kissed on your left thigh, sucking and scraping her teeth along it as she pleases.

As she latches on greedily in a way you're sure will leave a mark, a private reminder of your first night together, her fingers continue to tease your entrance. You gasp her name out, your voice laced with desperation, encouraging her to take the plunge. You need her inside of you. She repositions her hand quickly, right arm now under you and enters you more slowly then necessary, first with a single finger and then adding another, more gently then you would have anticipated but her thrusts become stronger as your responses become more uninhibited.

Rolling your hips in sync with her, riding her long, skilful fingers, you look down again and her eyes are open now, lust filled and watching how you respond to her. You’re positive she appreciates the freedom you both have to be as vocal as you'd like in the privacy of your home, not the dreary cement walls of Wentworth or the risqué confines of your office. You remove your hand from her hair to guide her other hand to your tragically neglected breasts, she understands, rolling your stiff nipples easily between her fingers.

_Fuck._

Eyes still locked, your hand returns to her hair, grasping it firmly and beckoning her mouth back to your endlessly wet centre. “Make me come, baby.”

Her fingers tweak your nipples with renewed vigour, pointed tongue eagerly circling your clit and long fingers curling inside of you topple you over the edge, wave after wave of pleasure coming over you. Your hips rock against her face, a choked gasp escaping your throat. Franky presses her fingers repeatedly against the upper wall of your vagina, her mouth softly sucking on your nub, working you though your climax, you don’t know if the first one is still going or she catapults you into another but you feel your walls contract around her fingers several more times before you gently push her head away form your over sensitive flesh.

Your legs feel like jelly but you somehow manage to settle down on the bed beside her, capturing her mouth in another heated kiss. Hand caress cheeks, noses bump, foreheads pressed against one another and the high you’ve both just experienced starts to fade, each of you wanting to prolong the experience but both equally sated, for now.

Her head is nuzzled into your neck and you can feel the grin spread across her face before she says,”Shoulda known you weren’t gonna take it lying down, way you had me up against that car, ya minx.”

You push her away playfully, laughing at the comment. You know she’s most likely just using humour to deflect right now but you’re to happy to care, you’ve talked enough and you’ll have countless more chances. In your momentary distraction, she’s rolled her body on top of yours, your legs automatically warping around her waist, strong hands on your thighs. She peppers kisses across your jaw, edging closer to your mouth.

“Fuck, Franky.”

You can’t get enough.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, let me know if you liked it and sorry for any typos!


End file.
